


Wherever I Go Trouble Seems to Follow

by singingintheshower48



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Dom/sub Undertones, Language Kink, M/M, Mafia AU, Mild Painplay, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Victor Nikiforov, but like Yuuri really gets off on it so, starts with a lot of plot then turns into
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 10:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16303514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingintheshower48/pseuds/singingintheshower48
Summary: The writing was elegant, unhurried, perfectly conveying the challenge in the curving letters.‘Catch me if you can.Ika toda,Yuuri’He huffed, annoyance now mixing with something sweeter, darker. Anticipation. The thrill of the chase.





	Wherever I Go Trouble Seems to Follow

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite sure where this came from but I can't say I hate it. Shout out to the FBI worker who's assigned to watch my internet history, because I did some pretty questionable Google searching while writing this. And also to Fall Out Boy for giving me a title. See the end notes for translations.
> 
> Warnings: gratuitous use of foreign languages, Viktor being a little wacko and possessive but Yuuri getting off on it, and a drawn out setup that devolves quickly into pure filth

Viktor sat in the dim light of the sitting room, swirling two fingers of scotch in one hand and scratching Makkachin behind the ears with the other. He gazed absentmindedly at the coffee table in front of him, not really reading the words he already had memorized. A soft whimper fell from the dog’s mouth, and she craned her head around to look forlornly at the door. Viktor sighed, equally as pathetic. 

“He’s not coming home tonight, Makka,” he told his furry companion. He absolutely was not whining. He took a sizable swig from his glass before setting it down on the coffee table and reaching for his phone. He pushed back a flare of annoyance at the playful glint in the brown eyes that stared back at him from his lock screen, instead dialing the familiar number of his head of security. 

“Vitya,” the gruff voice greeted him.

“Yakov, cancel my meeting with the Bulgarians on Tuesday. I’ll be leaving town early tomorrow and don’t know when I’ll be back.” 

The man on the other end of the line heaved a resigned sigh. 

“Dare I ask what for?”

“It’s probably best for your health if you remain ignorant for now.”

“It’d be best for my health to retire.” 

“You’d missed me too much,” Viktor quipped. “Also I’ll need someone to look after Makkachin while I’m gone.”

“Now wait just a—“

“Okay, thank you, Yakov, you can pick her up anytime tomorrow!” He said cheerily, hanging up before his uncle could continue yelling. He dropped his phone back on the table to knock back the rest of his drink. In front of him, Makkachin sighed, resting her head on his knee miserably. 

“It’s okay, Makka. Papa will be back soon. I’m going to go get him,” he promised. His eyes drifted once again to the note on the table before him. The writing was elegant, unhurried, perfectly conveying the challenge in the curving letters. 

‘Catch me if you can.  
Ika toda,  
Yuuri’ 

He huffed, annoyance now mixing with something sweeter, darker. Anticipation. The thrill of the chase. A smirk tugged at his lips, his fingers tracing over his lover’s words.

“I always, do, ptashka.”

———————————————————————-

Viktor Nikiforov, age 28, Pakhan of the St. Petersberg bratva, notorious across all of Russia and much of Europe for his ruthless nature, was accustomed to working for what he wanted. He’d been taught from a young age that being born to power didn’t make it easy to keep. His father, always the practical man, was sure to equip him with all the ways to hold onto the empire he’d fought so hard to secure.

Viktor had been practical once, too. Practical and cold and calculating. Of course, he was still all those things during business. It wouldn’t do for the Pakhan to be anything less. But outside work he could now take off his mask, let it fall away and be the wildly foolish and impulsive and selfish person he’d never let anyone see before. Not before him. Katsuki Yuuri had torn down his carefully constructed walls as easily as he sliced through the necks of those who opposed him. Falling for him had been easy, but like all good things in life, holding on to the kumicho of Japan’s second largest yakuza branch had not. But the Silver Knife of Russia was never one to back down from a challenge. He didn’t back down from what he wanted, even if hat he wanted was an enigmatic, raven-haired beauty with walls even higher than his own. What he’d found behind them had been worth everything he’d endured and more. 

Yuuri didn’t want to run from him anymore, not the way he used to. It was just a game now. A game he’d come up with, much to Viktor’s surprise. Tangled in the sheets of their shared bed, cheeks still flushed and breath still short, he’d laid hot kisses into Viktor’s damp neck and crooned in his ear. 

“That day you finally found me? Showed up at my hotel room covered in blood from fighting your way to me? It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I wouldn’t mind a repeat of what came after, either.” 

And, well. Viktor never could say no to the head of the Katsuki-kai when he asked to sweetly. 

His reminiscing was cut short by the Russian flight attendant’s voice welcoming them to Vilnius, local time time 10:02 am, temperature 3 degrees Celsius, then another voice repeating the message in Lithuanian, then English. It was only his second time in Lithuania. The first time had been with Yuuri, and the memory made his indignation flare up again. He took out his phone as he waited for the plane doors to open, leg bouncing impatiently as he waited for the person on the other end. 

“Bonjour, mon ami. So nice of you to call while you’re off on your unexpected holiday,” a smooth voice breezed in his ear. 

“It’s not much of a holiday,” Viktor argued, tone sour. “More of a scavenger hunt.”

“Ahh,” Chris hummed. “So the pretty bird has flown the cage again? I was wondering when he would. It’s been a while since you two played your dirty little game.” 

Viktor chose to ignore the smirk in his head of support’s voice. He wasn’t in the mood for banter. 

“I’ll need you to get in touch with our business partners in Vilnius,” he said instead as he stood and retrieved his bag. 

“I’ll have a report for you in a couple hours,” Chris promised. “Isn’t the timing for this a bit inconvenient, though? I was sure you’d be glued together the week before your anniversary.”

And therein lied the source of Viktor’s irritation. Yuuri had always been less sentimental about holidays and special occasions than he was. Of course, in their line of work, it wasn’t sensible to put importance on specific dates. Silver Knife Nikiforov, who’d inherited his father’s bratva at the tender age of 22, knew this. Viktor, hopeless romantic and selfish lover, had other ideas. Viktor was winning the argument at the moment. He didn’t think expecting to spend their third anniversary together was an outlandish request.

Chris, who knew him too well, was undoubtedly reading all this in his sullen silence.

“Well, I can see you need some time to pout about it,” he said. “I’ll be in touch soon.” Then he hung up without another word, leaving Viktor to stew. 

———————————————————————-

He had to admit he could see the appeal of Lithuania in the early winter. A blanket of snow covered Vilnius, leaving everything a clean, sparkling white. Below him, people bustled about the city in a silent, graceful dance. In the distance, children skated across a frozen pond. Viktor observed it all sullenly, tapping his fingers on the windowsill of his top-floor suite impatiently. The last time he’d been in the city, it had looked similar, a fact he was was steadfastly trying to ignore. At the time, Yuuri had rolled his eyes and teased Viktor for his insistence on celebrating their first Valentine’s Day together. He doubted his paramour remembered the occasion for their stay in the city at all. He huffed and turned away from the window, checking the time yet again. His visitors were late. 

True to his word, Chris had called Viktor back with all the information he needed to make his next move. A few calls and one thinly veiled threat later and he had his partners in the Vilnius Brigade after the man he needed to speak with. 

A sharp knock on his door had one corner of his mouth twitching up. He strolled to the door and found three men on the other side, two vaguely familiar, clad in pristinely pressed suits, and flanked by them a terrified looking man in an ill-fitting dress shirt and slacks. 

“Gentlemen,” he nodded to the two men he recognized from the Brigade, “lovely to see you again.” He then turned a cold gaze onto the man between them, who’s face went pale. “Mr. Gabrys, I presume? Please, come in.” 

He turned, walking smoothly, unhurriedly across the room. Gabrys whimpered in the doorway, not passing into the suite until one of the men by his side guided him firmly by the arm. Viktor resumed looking out at the icy city before him until he heard the door close and the shuffling of feet ceased. 

“Please, gentlemen, show my guest to a seat,” he sad calmly. More shuffling, followed by more whimpering. One of the Brigade members stepped up to him, placing an unloaded pistol and magazine of bullets on the windowsill beside him. 

“This was all he had on him,” the man said in accented English. Viktor nodded, waving a hand to the door to send him to stand guard. He turned and saw the other Brigade member with an immovable hand on Gabrys’ shoulder, keeping him in the plain hotel chair now sitting in the middle of the room. Finally, he addressed the trembling man again. 

“Mr. Gabrys, I will be brief. Two nights ago, in the early evening, you met with a yakuza man in a bar just outside of town. I need to know where that man is.”

“I already told yer men, I don’t know!”

Viktor sighed, arching an eyebrow in skeptical apathy. He took a pair of black gloves from his pocket, slipping them on as he gave the man another chance.

“I’m not in the mood for games today, Mr. Gabrys.” He slipped his favorite knife out of his sleeve, letting it catch the light to draw the Lithuanian man’s eyes to it. “So are you going to cooperate, or see what happens to those who test my patience?”

“Go to hell, you filthy Russian! I don’t know nothing!”

“Your choice,” Viktor hummed, unconcerned. “Pity, this is a nice carpet.” He stepped forward, digging the knife into the other man’s cheek. 

———————————————————————-

After making travel arrangements, he didn’t turn his phone on again until his layover in Warsaw. Six missed calls and eight texts glared up at him. One set of texts was mostly innuendos and winking emojis from Chris, another Yakov checking in to confirm that all was well with business and “the furry goblin,” and the last a single text from a very angry kitten calling him all manner of names. The voicemail waiting for him relayed a similar message.

“You asshole,” Yurio’s voice snarled. “You up and leave with no warning? Again? And now Yakov is calling me asking about dog food and going on walks? I don’t know anything about dogs you son of a—“

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin boarding Flight AF23 with service to Debrecen in just a few moments…” Viktor disconnected the message. 

———————————————————————-

He supposed there was an idyllic charm to Hungary. The old world and modern day mixed together all around him, from architecture to music to food. What he did know for certain was that he and Yuuri had never been there together. But it was no bother. He’d resolved on his second flight not to linger on it, instead choosing to focus on the thrill of the chase at hand. Anticipation thrummed in his veins, made only sweeter by his determination to track Yuuri down within the next several days. His pretty bird was getting craftier, it seemed, giving the Lithuanian dolt a coded message for him. It had taken Chris most of the afternoon to work out what it meant. 

“Our dearest kumicho almost put me over my record,” he’d informed Viktor gleefully. “He must be planning something absolutely filthy to want to delay us this long.”

“One can only hope,” Viktor’d replied, wiping his knife clean and signaling the Brigade members to finish Gabrys off. The man had been a thorn in their side for some time, selling their secrets to the Vilnus police and local rivals. Viktor was sure his end hadn’t been pleasant. The sizeable amount of cash he’d left with the Brigade men should have been enough to cover the cleaning fees and ensure everyone’s silence on the matter. 

Now he walked through the brisk air of downtown Debrecen towards his lunch meeting. He wondered what his Yuuri could have in store for him in a place so far from yakuza dealings. He himself had hardly dealt with anyone there in years apart from the occasional weapons trade. Whatever it was, he mused as he approached the upscale restaurant, he was sure he was in for an intriguing day. 

Viktor gave the maitre’d his name and was led to a small, private dining room in the back of the restaurant. The attendant pulled out his chair and took his coat before exiting the room silently, not blinking an eye at the shape of Viktor’s holster just visible under his suit jacket. It wasn’t until he was sure the maitre’d was well away from them that he addressed the woman before him. 

“Madame Farkas. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” 

The woman before him smiled. It was a secretive smile, as telling as the grey streaks and lines of knowledge around her still sharp eyes. A smile that seemed to say Viktor had uttered some private joke. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Pakhan Nikiforov. How are you finding my dear city? It’s been such a long time since you last visited.”  
“It’s as lovely as I remember it,” Viktor replied easily. “Speaking of which, I’ve brought you something. A token of gratitude, for such a warm welcome after these years.” He produced a bottle of vodka purchased at the airport in Vilnius from his briefcase. 

Ivette Farkas flicked a hand behind her, and one of her men silently stepped forward to retrieve the bottle. 

“Thank you, my dear,” she said, still holding a sly smile on her lips. “Now tell me, how long were planning on holding out on me?” 

Viktor quirked an eyebrow but otherwise kept his face impassive. “What do you mean, madame?”

“Word is that you’re now moving more than weapons across borders.” 

“Really, now? And what is word saying these goods are, exactly? You know I’m not fool enough to encroach on the Belarusians’ narcotics trade.” 

Farkas leveled him with a searching stare, on high alert for any crack in his facade.

“Of course I know that. I’ve heard tell of something far less taboo, though still a vice for many.”

There were a few beats of silence. The understanding dropped like a pin. That beautiful little shit.

“Ah. So you’ve been paid a visit by a certain Japanese bird.” 

“I have,” Farkas confirmed what he’d known walking into their meeting. There was a steely glint to her eye now. “I must say, it was somewhat of a shock to find that you’ve been sharing your prized goods with those whom you’ve just resumed contact rather than I, who’s treated your family well for so many years. Is that why you’ve been so absent the last three or so years? Too busy starting new enterprises to honor your old partners?”

Oh, Yuuri was in for it. Their cigar-whiskey exchange worked because it was mutually exclusive and highly secretive. Or at least it had been. Rather than let his irritation show, Viktor flashed his perfectly curated million-watt smile. 

“Madame Farkas, it was never my intent to lie to you. You know how these Eastern organizations can be, so demanding and conniving.” Very conniving, indeed. Yuuri had something up his sleeve here, and he’d ensured it would take all of Viktor’s tact for him to be part of it. Brat. He knew how much Viktor hated having to pander. “Katsuki-san would only agree to an exclusive trade partnership. I thought it best for our newly restored relations to allow him the discretion of inviting others into our arrangement. Clearly, my good taste has rubbed off on him. There’s no one but you I’d choose to expand our business with.” It was a struggle not to speak through his teeth. Yes, his pretty bird was in very deep trouble. 

Ivette Farkas’s eyes narrowed. She looked every bit the wolf her organization used as its mascot, sitting forward in her chair and frame posed to strike. 

“And how do I know you are not lying to me now, Mr. Nikiforov?” Her tone was sharp. Her bodyguard moved in behind her, slow, unhurried, but unmistakably closer. 

“Because I’ve come alone, of course. Who brings no guard to a meeting they plan to sabotage? I thought you didn’t take me for a fool, Madame.”

Farkas hummed, eyes still feral slits but relaxing back into her chair a bit. She waved her hand and her guard retreated back to his corner. 

“I suppose you make a good point. The Japanese are notorious for their particular natures, after all. Katsuki-san seemed no different when we spoke two days ago.” Viktor clenched a fist beneath the table but made no other outward reaction. Two days. He could be anywhere by now. Farkas continued, luckily unaware of his internal discord. “Which brings to mind another question, Mr. Nikiforov. How did a Russian Pakhan manage to gain the investment of Japan’s prized bird? He seemed reluctant to strike a deal unless you were involved as well.” 

Viktor allowed himself a grin. “I have my ways, Madame Farkas. I’m good with my words.” And his tongue, but some things were better left unsaid. “All it takes is a little show of trust. Which I’m willing to offer you, as well.”

Farkas considered him for a moment, face impassive. Then she spoke to her guard, turning only slightly so as to keep Viktor in view. 

“Have them bring in the first course. Mr. Nikiforov and I have much to discuss, and it’s poor hospitality to leave a guest with an empty stomach.” 

———————————————————————-

His meeting with the head of the Debrecen Wolf Clan yielded two new bits of information. 

First, Yuuri was in far less trouble than he could have been. Viktor left lunch without a scratch and a new trade agreement, not to mention back in Farkas’s good graces. Still, 11% of his cigar running profits was a steep price to pay for said graces.

Second, there were no non-stop flights from Debrecen to Turin to be found. It was approaching dusk by the time he’d gotten the information he needed to continue his manhunt, much too late to be bothered with a connecting flight. 

“By the way,” Farkas drawled as their negotiations came to an end. “Katsuki-san left me with a message for you.”

Viktor tamped down the flare of anticipation that tried to make itself known on his face.

“Did he now?”

“Yes,” there was curiosity behind the slyness on her face now.“He said he’s looking forward to your meeting in Turin next week. Interesting that you’re meeting so far from both your homes.”

“We’re both busy, as I’m sure you can understand, my dear. Sometimes it’s most convenient to have our business meetings elsewhere.” 

A flicker of disappointment. 

“So no clandestine Italian tryst?”

“You’re still a hopeless romantic, I see,” Viktor said, rising from their table. “If only there were times for such things in our line of work.”

Luckily, there was an Italian who owed him a life debt based in Milan, a mere two hour drive from his destination. He was on a plane by early evening, speeding down a northern Italian highway not long after that. There was a new fire in his movements, a renewed vigor to his search. Not because he thought Yuuri would be waiting for him. He’d learned long ago that his little bird waited for no one. Besides, the chase was all the more satisfying when he caught his prey through his own merits. Or demerits, as the case would have it. Instead, his new determination came from that Yuuri’s choice of Vilnius hadn't been a coincidence. Neither was Turin.

“We should return to Italy, someday,” Yuuri mused one summer afternoon as they lounged by the pool. It was their first mutual day off in weeks, and as such all staff had been firmly warned away from interrupting them. Viktor sat with his legs bracketing his lover, who was sprawled across his chest, cheek resting above his happily beating heart. 

“Hmm, that sounds nice,” Viktor agree, tracing lazy pattern’s across Yuuri’s naked back. Then he smirked, continuing. “You bound my hands and gave me the eating out of a lifetime while we were there.” 

Yuuri lifted his head, eyes gleaming in self-satisfaction and hunger.

“I had to give you something nice. It was the first time we spent your birthday together.” He shifted, sliding down Viktor's chest and dragging his nails after him. “You know I love a challenge, though. Care to see if I can beat my personal best?”

Viktor was certain that Turin was no random choice. Yuuri would have known exactly what it meant to him. He smiled triumphantly. Perhaps his sentimentality was wearing off, after all. There was a way to test if his hunch was right, and Viktor intended to do just that. 

He arrived at the grand hotel in the heart of the city in an hour and twenty minutes. It was just as he remembered it. White lights lit up its facade, putting it in stark contrast to the rest of the darkened street. The sleek lobby was quiet, his shoes clicking on the marble floor. The clean lines of the front desk contrasted in perfect, understated elegance with the white and cream walls. There was just one man behind it, not surprising for the late hour. He looked up as Viktor approached and his eyes widened, horror making his mouth drop. 

“B-benvenuto, signore,” he stuttered, eyes darting about the room. “Checking in?” The tremor in his voice confirmed Viktor’s suspicions. Viktor let his lips curl, suggestive with just a hint of darkness beneath. 

“It seems you’ve been expecting me.”

The man’s entire frame shook. “N-no, signore. How could I possibly have—“ 

The man cut off with a terrified gasp when Viktor produced a pistol from his suit jacket, laying it on the desk between them. 

“I believe a friend of mine paid you a visit recently. While I’m sure he paid you well to cover up his stay, I think you’ll find that I can be very persuasive. How much did he give you?” 

The clerk started to shake his head, but whimpered when Viktor raised an eyebrow and made to point the pistol in his direction, “Two hundred thousand Euros, signore.” 

“I’ll give you double,” Viktor said instantly. “Tell me what you know and you’ll live to see the end of your shift, then you can take your six hundred thousand and never speak of any of this again.” 

Impossibly, the man’s eyes widen more, tears shining in them.

“Grazie, signore, you are most gen—“

“Your groveling is meaningless. Tell me what I wish to know before I change my mind. The clerk squeaked, hastily opening a drawer near him. He produced an envelope and handed it to him with a shaking hand.

“This is all your friend left me with, signore. He arrived midday two days ago and stayed only one night. He gave no word as to where he was going from here, I swear.” 

Viktor took the offered parcel and considered it. A red bird emblazoned the front, a familiar seal on the back kept it closed tight. Viktor tucked his pistol and the enveloped into his coat, instead bringing out his checkbook. 

“Very well,” he said brightly, and the clerk nearly collapsed in relief. “I’ll also be needing your largest room available for the night. You will take a check, yes? For both transactions?” 

A few minutes later he sat in the hotel’s penthouse, feet propped on the ottoman before him, jacket, vest, holster, and tie discarded in the suite’s small closet. He held the envelope in his hands once more, turning it over delicately and breaking the seal with reverence. He unfolded the letter inside, inhaling the scent of familiar cologne that clung to the paper. 

‘Vitya,  
Have you figured it out? Either way, get some rest tonight. Knowing you, you’ve hardly slept in days, and you’re no good to me exhausted. We’ll see each other soon, if you can manage to work out where I’m going.  
T’estimo,  
Yuuri' 

He traced his fingers over the signature, longing filling his chest. He was quickly distracted, however, by the sign off above his little bird’s name. It wasn’t a language he recognized. He pulled out his phone, quickly responding to one of Yakov’s texts about a problem with their latest weapons shipment and ignoring more angry words from Yurio before searching the phrase. A wide grin broke out on his face when he saw the origin of the words. He knew where Yuuri was heading. If he followed the pattern he started, though, he’d have one more stop before his final destination. The end of his note seemed to confirm Viktor’s theory. He dialed Chris, restlessly getting up and making his way to the room’s large mirror while he waited for the man to pick up. He looked like crap. Yuuri was right, the lack of sleep was catching up to him. He’d need some decent rest tonight before the dark circles under his eyes became permanent.

“Have you any idea what time it is, mon ami?” Chris grumbled.

“Not really,” Viktor answered honestly. “What do you know about Andorra?”

Chris immediately sounded more awake. “My, my, the little bird is getting creative, isn’t he? Let me see what I can dig up. Perhaps in the meantime you should get a little sleep.”

“That’s probably wise,” Viktor agree, frowning at his rumpled appearance. “I’ll still be leaving early in the morning.”

“I’d expect nothing less of your foolish, lovesick ass.” 

———————————————————————-

“What do you mean, you can’t find him?” Viktor growled.

“I mean he’s hidden himself very well.” Chris’ calm tone only aggravated him further. 

“It’s one of the smallest countries in the world,” he snapped. “How many places could he be hiding?”

“It’s also somewhat of a no-man’s land. Apparently the French and Spanish surrounding them got into a bit of a messy scuffle a few years ago and the Andorran mob pulled all allegiance from both sides. They run a very discrete show these days.” 

Viktor cursed. “I’ll be there early this evening. Have something for me by then.” It was a warning that Chris heard clearly.

“Of course, boss.” He hung up without another word. Viktor huffed into the following silence, gripping the wheel tight. The road stretched out before him, early traces of light creeping onto the horizon. If he was right about Yuuri’s plan, and he was fairly certain that he was, the illusive bird was within his grasp somewhere in Andorra. But he wouldn’t be there for long. By the next day he’d be on to his next destination, much bigger than the four hundred or so kilometers he hid within now. Besides. He wasn’t expecting Viktor to catch up to him so soon. And Viktor did love to surprise his lover. 

His phone rang again, buzzing nearly deafening in the quiet car. He answered without a glance at the screen, assuming it must be Chris again. 

“Give me good news.” 

“There’s nothing good to tell, you asshole!”

He startled, then had to hold back a snicker, already feeling his mood improve. 

“Now, Yurio, is that any way to greet your cousin and Pakhan? I thought you were calling to say you missed me.”

His teasing was ignored.

“Where. The. Hell. Are. You?” Yurio demanded. “Yakov’s been insufferable since you left, the Swiss has been more smug than usual, and no one’s heard head or tails of the pigeon. Are you two fighting? Did you do something stupid?”

“Awww, are you worried about us?”

There was a pained shrieking from the other end of the line. “Like hell, you idiot! I just want you back here so everyone stops acting insane! Then I can go back to interrogating and breaking bones in peace.” 

Oh, to be young and so full of unbridled rage again. Viktor couldn’t honestly say he missed it. It had been exhausting. His young cousin and lead enforcer would learn soon enough, but until then he was going to have his fun. 

“We’ll be back shortly, Yurio. Yuuri and I are fine, I’m going to fetch him right now.” 

“Well where is he? Why is he always running off like this? You’re sure he hasn’t gotten tired of your gross, old ass and moved on to something better?” Viktor smiled at the genuine worry behind the bite in the young man’s voice, but carried on as planned.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he said cheerily. “It’s just a little game we play. But I probably shouldn’t say more, I wouldn’t want to corrupt the youth.”

“What are you on abou…” Yurio trailed off, and Viktor could practically here the moment his words clicked. He waited gleefully for half a second, then— “You mean this is some sort of sex thing! Gross! You old perverts are disgusting. Ugh! I can’t believe you take your sick kinks across country lines.”

“Nice talking to you, too! See you in a few days!” He cut the still screaming boy off, feeling much more lighthearted than when he picked up the phone. 

———————————————————————-

Anticipation thrummed in his veins, pooling low in his stomach. His whole body felt like a live wire, alert, buzzing with power, ready to strike at any moment. He was close.

By the time Viktor had made it to Andorra la Vella, Chris had narrowed Yuuri’s hiding place down to two areas of the city. From there, it had been easy to track down the last people that had seen him. Only a few broken fingers and one bullet later and Viktor was on his way to the hotel Yuuri had been seen walking into earlier that day. He hadn’t even gotten any blood on his suit. 

At the front desk he put on a winsome smile and gushed about his adorable husband who’d flown in to meet him while he was in town for a business conference. It was their anniversary soon, you see, and oh, how charmingly typical that his Yuuri had forgotten to give the front desk his name too. He was probably jet-lagged and sleeping, so please don’t call and wake him, and of course he understood if they couldn’t let Viktor up. The attendant waved a hand, unconcernedly shoving a key into his hand. Western Europeans were so easy. 

In the lift up to the top floor he forced himself to take a deep breath. It didn’t do much to calm the raw hunger trying to claw its way out of his chest, but it did lessen the shaking in his hands ever so slightly. By the time the doors slid open the feeling that he was going to fly out of his skin had calmed to a reasonable level. Viktor stepped into the small hallway and turned to the door on his left, letting himself into the suite as quietly as possible. 

It was silent and dark in the room. Viktor prowled through the sitting room, a small smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Not all of his story was a farce, it seemed. He dropped his bag on a chair and continued on to the bedroom, slipping in through the cracked door. His breath caught in his throat at the sight that awaited him.

As predicted, Yuuri was asleep, dark brown hair fanned around his head. The evening sun filtered through the windows, casting shadows across his face where is hit his eyelashes. The sheet rode low on his hips, the brilliant red phoenix inked across his torso on full display. Viktor followed the swirling lines in his skin, all the way from the tail curving delicately around one hip to the wing splayed across the opposite collar bone. Need flared hot in Viktor’s stomach.

He got to work silently, shedding his jacket and tie in rapid succession before kicking off his shoes. When he was down to just his pants he crawled onto the bed carefully, slinking up the mattress until he was on his hands and knees over Yuuri, arms bracketing the sleeping man’s head. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to Yuuri’s face, starting at his chin and working his way up his jaw. 

“Wake up, solnyshko,” he purred when he reached his lover’s ear. “I came all this way just to see you, after all.” He felt Yuuri stir and raised himself up slightly to see his face. Yuuri’s brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes fluttering when he registered another presence in the bed. He blinked several times, eyes becoming clearer with every pass. A flurry of emotions flickered across his face when he finally noticed Viktor above him— happiness, confusion, realization, finally settling into—

“Shit,” he rasped, agitation taking over his expression.

“Is that any way to greet me after so long apart, ptashka?” 

“We saw each other less than a week ago,” he protested, putting on his best pout. “You weren’t supposed to catch up to me yet.” 

“I won fair and square,” Viktor shot back. “The Italian was your downfall. He was too easily bought.”

“I should have known when he didn’t try to haggle my price up,” Yuuri muttered darkly, and Viktor had to suppress a laugh. He had more important things to attend to. 

“That reminds me, though,” he said, moving off Yuuri and flipping him quickly. He ripped the sheet down, pleased to find only bare skin beneath it. With no warning he brought a hand down sharply on one side of Yuuri’s ass. The other man yelped, a tinge of hunger in his voice. “That’s for choosing the only major Italian city it’s impossible to fly direct to.” 

Yuuri craned his head around to raise an eye at him, a sly smile quirking his lips. “It’s called a challenge for a reason, Vitya.” 

Instead of answering, Viktor delivered a spank to his other cheek. 

“That’s for ratting me out to Ivette Farkas.”

“You should be thanking me for that,” Yuuri snarked, the bite of his words lessened by their breathless tinge. “I gained you a new trade agreement.” 

“At the cost of 11% of my profits.” Yuuri had the good grace to flinch sympathetically. Before he could generate another smart remark, Viktor brought his hand down again. Yuuri couldn’t stop the small groan or the way his eyes fluttered at the sting. “That’s for the trouble I went through to clean up after my interrogation of that Lithuanian rat.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re messy,” he gasped, not bothering to hide his arousal anymore. 

Viktor stayed silent again, laying one more spank that echoed throughout the room, shuddering at the unashamed moan it ripped from the man below him. 

“And that,” he spoke softly this time, “is for making me think you forgot our anniversary.” 

Yuuri stiffned below him before flipped onto his side to face Viktor. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He reached a hand out to Viktor, brushing hair off his face tenderly.

“I could never,” he promised earnestly. Viktor caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles to show he was forgiven. “You’ve made a sap out of me, Nikiforov.” 

Viktor smirked. "Apparently so. Barcelona? Leading me back to where we officially got together? Who knew you had it in you, solnyshko?”

“Hush,” Yuuri muttered, his cheeks dusted pink. “You ruined it anyway.”

“No, I won,” He reiterated, unceremoniously shoving Yuuri onto his back and straddling him to frame his arms around him again. “And I’ll be claiming my prize now.” 

“Hmm, I suppose it’s only fair. Claim away.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Viktor threaded his fingers through his hair and hauled him forward. Their mouths clashed, Yuuri’s lips falling open in a filthy moan. Viktor swallowed it greedily. He dragged the nails of his free hand down Yuuri’s chest, flicking his tongue teasingly across his bottom lip before biting down on it. Yuuri’s breath hitched, his hands coming up to clutch at Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor growled, wrenching his lips away from his lover’s to grab him by the wrists. Yuuri let out a surprised huff as he was dropped onto the mattress and his arms were hauled above his head. 

“Now, now, solnyshko, you know that’s not how this goes,” he warned his voice a low, dark purr. “I win, I get to have my fill. Now be a good little bird and keep your hands where they belong.” 

Yuuri bit his lip, eyes flashing in hunger, but nodded. Viktor didn’t hesitate to dive back in, mouth latching on to the arch of his neck. He felt the whine vibrate under his lips as he sucked and nipped at the skin there. He didn’t pause in his endeavor until a sizable red mark bloomed on Yuuri’s skin. He hummed in possessive satisfaction before continuing down Yuuri’s body. He followed the lines of the phoenix inscribed into his skin, sucking more marks onto the patches of blank skin littered between black lines and red swirls. His hands trailed behind his mouth as it mapped Yuuri’s chest and torso, pausing to tweak roughly at his nipples. As always, Yuuri didn’t disappoint, arching desperately into the greedy mouth marking him and all manner of indecent noises spilling from his lips. 

“Kuso,” he gasped when Viktor dragged his nails roughly down his chest, bucking his hips. “Viktor, fuck, please.”

Viktor released the hip bone he’d been marking with a huff, slinging a leg over his shoulder and taking in the sight before him. Yuuri looked absolutely wrecked. Eyes glazed over in hunger, flush high on his cheeks, angry red lined and purpling marks littering his un-inked skin. Viktor’s already hard dick twitched in his pants. 

“What do you want, ptashka?” he managed, rasping around the need trying to rip its way out of his throat. 

“Let me touch you,” Yuuri begged, fingers flexing but remaining above his head.

Viktor chuckled. “Not yet.” Yuuri’s anguished groan turned into a keen when Viktor sunk his teeth into the inner thigh of the leg over his shoulder.

“Blyad,” he hissed, and oh, he was playing dirty now. He knew how crazy it drove Viktor when he spoke Russian. But Viktor wouldn’t be so easily persuaded. He fully intended to make up for every moment they’d been apart. Once he was satisfied with his work he nipped his way to Yuuri’s flushed and leaking cock and licked a teasing line from base to tip. Yuuri yelped, his hips chasing the feeling of his mouth as he lifted to smirk at the ravished man below him. 

“You’re being so good for me, ptashka. “I think you deserve a reward.” He fished a packet of lube out of his pocket before shucking off his pants, groaning at the relief it provided his aching cock. Yuuri followed his movements with hungry eyes, quirking his eyebrow in question. Viktor shook his head, smirk deepening at Yuuri’s frustrated grumble.

“You’re a cruel man, Pakhan Nikiforov.”

“You like me this way, Katsuki-san,” he shot back, tearing the packet open with his teeth and slicking up his fingers. 

Yuuri’s breathing hitched when he circled a cool finger around his entrance. “I suppose I can’t argue with tha-aah.” He cut off into a moan, hips twitching into the finger that sunk into him. Viktor didn’t wait for him to catch his breath, pumping his finger several times before sliding a second alongside it. Yuuri bucked into the thrusts, a string of moans and mewls sending hot shivers through Viktor’s body. Greedy for more of those addicting sounds, Viktor dipped his head down, gripping Yuuri’s dick with his free hand and swiping his tongue across the tip. Yuuri wrenched his arms from above his head, slamming them onto the mattress to grasp at the sheets. Viktor decided to overlook the indiscretion in favor of taking as much of the length into his mouth as he could. A chorus of swearing graced his ears, English, Japanese, and Russian mixing together in a heady symphony. He bobbed his head, scissoring his fingers in time with his movements and accepting Yuuri’s harsh thrust up with a smug moan. 

Soon he worked a third finger into Yuuri’s twitching hole, sinking his head down and swallowing at the same time. 

“Fuck, Vitya, please!” 

He lifted slowly, flicking his tongue all the way up and releasing the head of Yuuri’s cock with a pop. 

“It’s okay, love. You’ve been so good. Let it go,” he crooned before sinking down again. He sucked hard, fingers brushing along Yuuri’s prostate, and Yuuri was crying out and spilling onto Viktor’s eager tongue. He swallowed everything his lover gave him, humming in satisfaction. 

He waited until Yuuri’s moans quieted into whimpers, hips twitching away, to stop his movements. He released Yuuri’s softening cock from his mouth and eased his fingers out of his hole before crawling his way up Yuuri’s body. Viktor caught his mouth in a rough kiss, plunging his tongue inside and letting the spent man taste himself. Yuuri wrenched away with a needy sound. 

“Viktor, please, can I—?” he gasped, voice shaking with his recent orgasm and something more raw, a barely contained hunger that made Viktor ache in all the best ways.

“Yes, solnyshko,” he rasped, and the permission was barely out of his mouth when Yuuri whined in relief. Shaking hands grasped at him, one digging into his back while the other twisted in his hair to bring their lips together again. Viktor complied happily. He nipped at Yuuri’s bottom lip and ground his hips down. His underwear were long ruined, leaking cock leaving a large stain on the front. He shimmied out of them and tossed them carelessly across the room. Yuuri sighed contentedly into his mouth when he brought his hips down again with nothing between them. He arched into Viktor, running his hands across all the skin he could reach. Viktor wound his arms around Yuuri, pulled them flush against each other and ground his aching cock down for some relief. He broke their lips apart with a huff of laughter when he felt Yuuri’s twitch in renewed interest. His recovery time never failed to amaze him. 

“Already?”

Yuuri pouted. “I hardly ever go so long without getting to touch you.” 

“I thought last week wasn’t that long ago?”

“Shush,” Yuuri murmured, nipping at his lip. “Are you done collecting on your win already?”

Viktor hummed in consideration, pulling away enough to grip Yuuri by the hips and flip him onto his stomach once more. 

“No, I’m far from done with you,” he breathed hotly into Yuuri’s ear, reveling in the shiver it earned him. He tugged on the full hips in his hands, maneuvering Yuuri onto his knees and further up the bed. “Hold onto the headboard, love. You’re going to need it.” 

Yuuri shuddered and scrambled to comply, arching his back to push his ass further up. Viktor rewarded him with a sharp spank to each cheek. He gasped, fingers clamping down on the bed frame. His legs spread wider, beckoning Viktor closer. Who was he to resist such an invitation? Viktor traced a finger around the shiny red rim of his asshole, his free hand catching the hips that tried to flinch away in oversensitivity. He easily slipped two fingers back inside, dark and possessive heat flaring up again at Yuuri’s choked off moan. 

Viktor pumped his fingers a few times, just enough to get Yuuri panting and shivering for more, before pulling them out in search of the discarded lube. He hissed at the cold liquid touching his heated skin, slicking himself quickly. He wasted little time in sliding all the way inside Yuuri with one firm thrust. He stilled for a moment when fully seated, nearly undone by Yuuri’s sharp cry and the hot, slick walls fluttering around his cock.

He bent low over Yuuri, sinking his teeth into a flexing shoulder blade. He tightened his grip on one hip and wound the other around Yuuri’s body, wrapping it around the half-hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. Yuuri jerked forcibly, practically sobbing when Viktor pumped his hand, bringing his sensitized cock back to full hardness. Viktor unlatched his lips from Yuuri’s shoulder, pressing a reassuring kiss to the skin instead and swiveling his hips lazily. The other man’s trembling subsided before long, a whine building in his throat and twitching back further into Viktor’s movements. 

“Vitya,” he breathed, sounding dazed. “Fuck me, please. Make me feel it.” 

“Whatever you wish, ptashka,” Viktor growled, seizing both hips in a bruising grip. He slid out of Yuuri, not pausing before slamming back in. He set a brutal pace, grunting from exertion and spasming walls sucking him back in each time he left. Yuuri met his thrusts enthusiastically, moaning an unintelligible string of Viktor’s name and words in various languages. Viktor leaned down again, nipping at his ear and whispering harshly into it. “Is this what you wanted? For me to remind you who you belong to?”

Yuuri shuddered, throwing his head back with a gasp. 

“Yes.”

“No matter how far you run, I’ll always come find you,” he promised, raking one hand from Yuuri’s hip up to his neck, wrapping it in a loose grasp, just enough to keep his lover’s head tilted back. “I’ll always remind you where you belong.” 

He could feel Yuuri’s answering moan against his hand, heat shooting through his body and making his hips stutter. He managed to recover, tilting the movement of his hips to hit Yuuri’s prostate with every harsh thrust. 

“Yes, fuck, please, yes,” Yuuri panted, knuckles white where they gripped the bed’s headboard and hips slamming back into Viktor’s. “Vitya, ikisou.” 

“Tell me what you want, ptashka,” Viktor bit out through his teeth.

“Mark me,” Yuuri pleaded. Viktor snarled, grabbing him by the chin to tilt his head to the side, baring the column of his neck, latching onto the pale skin exposed to him. He sucked and nipped mercilessly, tongue flicking out in time with his hips and suddenly Yuuri was coming untouched, wailing and tightening torturously around Viktor and losing his grip on the bed frame. Viktor’s answering cry was muffled into the skin between his lips. He caught Yuuri by the chest as he slumped to the mattress, trembling through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He gave another violent flutter around Viktor and he was lost, his hips stilling as he spilled hotly into Yuuri. He released the skin of Yuuri’s neck, instead burying his face in the curve of his shoulder and moaning shakily into the sweaty skin there. 

When the last of their shuddering subsided, Viktor rolled to the side, pulling Yuuri against his chest and wrapping both arms firmly around him. He gave two more small thrusts into Yuuri, feeling his cum leaking out around his softening cock, only for his lover to let out an almost pained whine.

“No more, I can’t,” Yuuri groaned, hips twitching away. Viktor slid out of him, pressing an apologetic kiss to his shoulder. 

“I love you,” he murmured into Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri turned in his arms, tilting his head up to place soft kiss on his chin.

“I love you, too. Happy early anniversary.”

Viktor buried a pleased grin into Yuuri’s hair, arms squeezing to pull him in closer. 

“Happy anniversary, solnyshko.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ika toda = “Until then,” Lithuanian  
> Ptashka = "Pretty bird,” Russian  
> T’estimo = “I love you,” Catalan  
> Solnyshko= “Little sun,” Russian  
> Kuso= “Fuck/Shit,” Japanese  
> Blyad= “Fuck,” Russian  
> Ikisou= “I’m gonna come,” Japanese
> 
> Comments and kudos give me life! Also find me on tumblr at singingintheshower48.


End file.
